


Unexpected Connections

by cyberpunk2183



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Drama, Drinking & Talking, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberpunk2183/pseuds/cyberpunk2183
Summary: Dax knows Kira needs a drinking buddy whether she wants one or not.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Hate is the one word to describe how I feel about Deep Space 9. It isn’t even a very adequate word at that. DS9 represents everything I hate. Cardassia, Cardassians, and the occupation of Bajor, my people. I despise it. 

Every day that I spend here eats at me. Threatens to dismantle everything I know about who I am, how I perceive the world, and etches out the stone of my heart, whatever’s left of it anyway.

The cold grey steel, the myriad of people ebbing and flowing in and out of the Gamma Quadrant, and the Starfleet personnel are just colorful decorations on a bloody past full of rape, death, and betrayal on the most fundamental levels.

These people will never understand what Bajor and I went through to get even this far. That they even dare try to understand is insulting. They are nothing but soft Starfleet officers.

Everyday I’m confronted with that softness at the command station. O’brien at least understands the concept of war. Sisko understands the rage, but that impertinent little Trill understands nothing even with the expanse of all her lifetimes within her.

“Hey, Major,” she casually says every morning as if there isn’t a cultural gap between us as wide as Nigara River. I look at her dumbfounded. Its 0400 hourw and she’s cheery as always despite the fact she’s pulled an all nighter and planning to work the next shift.

“Don’t you ever sleep, Lieutenant?” I ask her and she shrugs, sipping her Raktajino casually.

“Sometimes, but not when there’s important scientific data to gather and my off shift counterpart is sick with the Bavarian flu.” I snort and shake my head.

“You never cease to amaze,” I grumble and she gives me that wicked smirk.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, anyway?” She asks. “Want something properly scanned? I have a full docket this morning, but I’d bump anything you’d consider important.”

I feel itchy at the offer. I don’t know why she’s being nice other than that’s how they programmed her to be: cordial, diplomatic. I feel tense and the anger that bubbles in me all the time threatens to make short work of such niceties on a such a terrible day.

“No,” I say shortly.

“Major,” she says and I raise a hand to make her stop and walk away.

I don’t know if they know. I don’t really care. It’s none of their business, but I’m sure the halls of the promenade are starting to overflow with candles, pictures, and poems to the victims of one of the worst massacres during the Occupation. I wish we’d forget about it. I wish we wouldn’t even bother.

Dax leaves the bridge at the end of her shift. Sisko approaches me at the beginning of his.

“Hello, Major,” he says casually, but I can hear the underlying edge. The desire to probe and see how I’m really doing.

“Commander,” I say a little dangerously to remind him not to push me. 

“I’ve noticed the Promenade on my way up,” he says. “Did you know anyone in the massacre?” Foolish meddling human.

“Believe it or not, I don’t know everyone on Bajor,” I growl at him. He nods, not looking surprised by my response. 

“Sorry, if I bothered you,” he says. “I know it must be difficult to be reminded…”

“You don’t know a damned thing, Commander,” I found myself growling softly. Now, his eyebrows do shoot up and a flicker of anger and sympathy at my response. I want to spit on him, for all his diplomatic Starfleet ways. He doesn’t know a damned thing about me.

“Do you want to rephrase that or would like the rest of your shift off?” He says in a chilly voice. I stiffen at the soft reprimand and the kind offer.

“Commander with all due respect you know nothing of my people and what we’ve been through,” I say more carefully and he nods.

“I’m sorry you still feel that way,” he says. “If you need a listening ear…”

“I don’t,” I have to keep the snarl down. Not you, not ever.

“Or someone to yell at privately. You know where my office is,” he offers before walking off. I like the latter offer a lot better but I don’t take him up on it.

At the end of my shift, I walk to my quarters through the promenade. The press of Bajorans on the station offering prayers, some pleating and crying weakly, makes me sick. I decide to stop off at Quark’s and get a stiff drink. A real one, not one of those fake Starfleet kind.

I sit at the bar and he approaches warily as if seeing the storm in my eyes.

“Well, hello, Major,” he says his voice belying his wariness. “Pleasure to see you here. Would you like something to drink?”

“Got any Romulan Ale?” I ask quietly and slip over something to entice him. His eyebrows shoot up and he nods.

“I’ve been getting that request a lot today actually.” He prepares me a drink after taking the latinum. I take a deep gulp and then another, and feel it hit my system hard, pleasant, and then there’s Dax, ruining it all.

“Oooh, the good stuff,” she says with a grin. “Need a drinking partner? I’m off tomorrow.” Her words are light, as usual, but I see the darkness in her eyes. She’s not blind to all the extra Bajorans milling around Quark’s like they don’t know what to do with themselves. 

I realize I don’t want to be here.

I take another drink.

“Yes…no, I don’t want to be here,” I say suddenly confused. “Around these people…” My fist tighten helplessly around the long glass. The Occupation is over, I tell myself.

But why doesn’t it feel over? I wonder.

“Quark, how much for the bottle?” Dax asks him cooly. He grins a little wickedly and Dax, despite being Starfleet offers him a nice deal in Latinum. He lifts his eyebrows and nods, then gives her the bottle. I drink the rest of my cup.

“I don’t drink with Starfleet,” I snarl at her, but she shrugs.

“That’s a shame. I have a bottle of Romulan Ale. Or is that because you’ve never drank with Starfleet and you’d like to give it a try?” I feel the growl in the back of my throat but rise to my feet.

“My quarters,” I snap. She nods and doesn’t say anything else as we continue our way through the bustle of the Promenade.

“What’s this?” I hear her ask and stop. There’s a talisman on a picture. 

“It’s very traditional, probably a grandmother made it for her child or grandchild,” I murmur. “It’s a very old tradition.”

“It’s beautiful,” Dax breathes both sad and awed by the craftsmanship.

“It’s stupid. It doesn’t do anything.”

“It gave her something to do with her hands. It gave her something to do,” Dax says vehemently. “Don’t you ever feel helpless?” I make a strangled noise and she looks shocked as if she’s even said anything. “I’m sorry, Major. I didn’t mean…”

“Let’s get more drink in us and then we can fight,” I mutter and grab her arm. The hallways to the quarters are much quieter and I feel the itchiness of my skin start to fade. The feedback in my mind takes back seat as we enter my room.

I haven’t been in anyone’s room on DS9 other than my own. It’s much the same as when I arrived. I have a bag of clothes in the closet for Bajor travel, sleep clothes hanging up and my uniforms. There’s a couch in the main room, a chair, and a very plain table in front the couch. All of it of the hideous Cardassian design that utterly sickens me and makes me feel like a traitor. A portable shrine is set up in the corner, but I’ve left everything else, because I don’t have anything else.

“This is nice,” Dax says. “Let me get some cups.” I don’t know what she means by that. I grumble as I sit down on the couch as she acquires cups from the replicator. She pours us each a drink.

“How did you get here?” I ask aloud before thinking. “You’re the last person I expected to be in my quarters.”

“Does it matter, Major?” She asks. In all her infinite wisdom, six lifetimes, I guess that makes sense in a practical sense. “This isn’t about friendship. This is about drinking.” Ah…cold hard wonderful logic.

I raise my glass to that and give a grim smile. She returns a smirk and we clink glasses. Then both of us try to drink down the powerful ale. I feel it pound into me and I see Dax grin at the feeling and taste of the Romulan Ale.

“This is so damn good,” she says, and rises to her feet easily. She looks nice in her off-duty clothes. Something blue that goes with her skin, dots, and dark hair. I imagine it goes with her eyes too. She approaches the shrine and I stiffen.

She peers at it, but doesn’t get too close and doesn’t touch it. I start to relax as she turns to me.

“How often do you pray?”

“I meditate,” I tell her. “I only pray on certain occasions. I find the Prophets don’t listen to me all that much, so I try to seek their peace instead.” She smiles at that as if understanding.

“You don’t believe in anything?” I challenge.

“I wouldn’t say athat. We believe all life is…” Her eyebrows knit together as she tries to word it for me. “…important. We should be kind to all and to better ourselves. If we had religion it’d be centered around the symbiotes and expanding on the lives and improving ourselves.”

“That’s a hollow religion,” I growl. “What if you can’t be kind or better?”

Dax sits on the arm of the couch, which I hate. She crosses her long legs. Why not sit on the couch itself? It has to be more comfortable.

“Sometimes you can’t…you’re right,” she says with a shrug. “But that doesn’t mean you should stop trying.” Her words seem so silly. So stupid. She pours us another drink. So naive. 

I take it a little roughly and stand up myself and start to pace.

“Even the Prophets can’t help me reconcile the meaningless deaths,” I grumble, drinking more slowly this time. I stagger a little, and Dax decides to sit on the couch.

“I can’t offer you anything, Nerys,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” I mutter. “Don’t start giving me meaningless platitudes too. You’re the only one who doesn’t.” She smiles softly. “Damn it. I’m so fucking tired of this. I wish they wouldn’t even bother. Why can’t we forget about it?”

“You can try, but I don’t think you’d be able to, Nerys.” When she says my name it sends a shudder through me. When was the last time someone said my name like that? Like they actually gave a shit about me.

My heart aches and I decide to sit on the floor to drink the rest of the ale, since my head is spinning. Dax sighs, fingering her glass thoughtfully.

“I hate this,” I tell her. She nods.

“I know you don’t want to remember or feel what you do or did,” she says. “I wish I could take it all away, but life isn’t that easy.” I snort.

“No, it isn’t,” I say bitterly, but I don’t feel angry for once, for her offering that. 

“I admire you, Major,” Dax says out of the blue. I look at her suspiciously. “No, I truly do. You’re one of the strongest people I know. I know that I couldn’t have made it through like you.”

“We rarely know what we’re capable of until it is demanded of us,” I say quietly. I push myself up, stagger to the couch and drink another sip of the ale. I slouch next to her. Dax laughs a full and melodic laugh that I’ve never heard from her.

I shut my eyes and for a moment I’m sitting on a Bajoran moon, in a Cardassian camp, and there’s a woman. She has dark hair like Jadzia and blue eyes. She’s utterly breathtaking and beautiful, but she is straight or like most Bajorans she’s forced to be straight by our male captors. I had long to touch her and show her what true appreciation was, not rough handling. I shudder as my mind drifts some place darker where there are bruises, blood, crying and inevitably death.

I open my eyes to Dax, who is watching me carefully, waiting for me to come back from wherever I went.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that to one of us Starfleet types,” she teases with a slow, softer smirk. I shrug.

“Whether you experience something that will make you hard or not is another matter. I would never want that to happen to you…” I say. “Which means I’d prefer you stay stupid, soft, and naive.” I let out a sigh, take another gulp from glass and place the near empty glass on my belly. “No one should go through what my people have gone through.”

“Agreed.” Dax lifts of her glass, clinks it to mine and we drink the rest. I put my head back against the couch after that. “Nerys.” 

“Mmm,” is the only thing I can say at the moment, head lolling in her direction as the room pleasantly swirls. “…nice. I like it when you say my name like that.” My lips are struggling to shape the words.

“Do you?” She says amused and goes to grab a blanket from the top of the couch. Its rough and hand sewn by one of the grandmother’s selling their batter wares on the planet below, trying to survive on nothing. Jadzia wraps it around me. I offer her a piece, because two is better than one when staying warm, but she shakes her head with a soft smile. “Trills prefer the chill.”

I shrug. Suit herself. I nestle deeper into the unforgiving couch.

“Do you ever wonder what you would have been like if you’d never experienced the Occupation?” She asks.

I open my eyes, pulling myself up from the dregs of drunkedness as my mind struggles to grapple with the question before me.

“No…that girl died long ago. Just a stupid little girl,” I mutter. Dax makes a soft sound as if she’s heard that phrase before. I look up at her and wonder if she understands at least this one small thing, but my vision frays and darkness catches up to me at last.


	2. Connection

The next morning, I hear the communicator buzz and I realize what time it is with a start. I shoot up and start to readjust my uniform, but there’s nothing for it.

“Enter,” I say and rise to my feet with a shocking headache.

“Hello, Major,” says the Commander.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” I reply feeling like an idiot. “Yesterday…effected me more than I thought.”

“I’ll give you the day off,” he says sounding quite chipper. “But let me know in advance next time or do you plan on letting the Old Man tell me from now on?” The jibing tease relaxes me. He at least had some advanced notice that I might not make it to my shift.

“That was kind of her,” I reply. He nods and looks at my quarters with that Commander look he gets.

“I’m sorry for the personal call. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says. “Julian sent me with this too.” He offers a hypospray. “For the hangover.” I nod feeling a blush creep to my cheeks.

“I feel like I kind of deserve it,” I mutter and his smile broadens.

“It’s a peace offering from Starfleet to Bajor,” he says and I actually let out a bark of laughter which was a bad mistake. I grip my head and take the hypospray.

“Thank you,” I say and I mean it for the first time on this Prophet forsaken hellhole. He nods his head.

“But you’re okay?”

“No,” I say coldly. “I mean, yes, it’s just a hangover. I can get over the hangover. The rest is…time, I guess.” 

“Yes,” he says simply. “See you tomorrow, Major.”

“Thank you again, Commander.” He waves it off and steps outside of my quarters. I give myself the shot and I’m glad to feel the headache dissipate and then go to take a shower and change.

For once, I’m humming. Something I haven’t done in a long time. I’m wondering what I will actually do with my free time. A whole day to while away, but then I think of the Promenade and wonder how long that stuff will be out there. How long can I avoid it?

I come out in my nightclothes and robe, to meditate. Well after midday, I hear the door buzz again. This is the most guests I’ve ever received aboard DS9. I frown, feeling vulnerable in my night clothes.

“Open,” I say in a terse voice and there’s Jadzia.

“Hey, just came to check on you.”

“You got me drunk,” I mutter. She grins impishly.

“You got you drunk. I just drank with you,” she says, far to brightly. “I told Benjamin. He wasn’t mad.”

“Damn it. He came to my quarters and Julian had a hypospray for my hangover,” I growl again. She stands stock-still at the door during my tirade. “Get in here.” She steps in hesitantly as if afraid I will eat her like a Vogath. Damn it. I rub my forehead.

“Benjamin only makes house calls if he’s concerned for his senior staff,” she assures me. I snort.

“You sure know a lot about the Commander.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. I had another lifetime with him as Curzon,” she says, tapping her belly. “If you didn’t show up and I hadn’t told him, it probably would have been a lot worse.”

“I don’t need you coddling me,” I bark.

“I wasn’t. I was doing what I would do for any fellow officer,” she says with a shrug. “I didn’t want you to drink alone. Haven’t you done enough of that already? It’s been almost six months.” I stare at her and feel a hollowness, an emptiness expand within me that feels like the obyss I will die in.

“What do you want from me? I don’t know how to do this,” I explode at her. “I don’t know how to live my life outside the Occupation.” I slam my mouth shut, because that definitely wasn’t something I intended to say. 

“It’s okay, Neyris. You’re a fine officer and no one is asking anything of you.”

“But you are. You are asking me for something I can’t give,” I tell her. “You’re asking for a drinking buddy. You’re joining me in the replemat while I drink my morning tea, and greeting me every Prophet’s damned morning with that chipper smile of yours as if we’re friends.”

“We’re not friends, but we can practice being friends,” she offers. “No pressure.”

“That’s stupid,” I mutter at her. “No one has to practice being friends.” She shrugs at me.

“Come play springball with me,” she offers. “It’ll help release some of that energy,” she offers. I frown at her. Then, I nod. 

“Right now?” I ask.

“Sure,” she says and grins as if she wasn’t expecting me to take up the challenge so soon.

“Let me get dressed.”

***  
Our friendship is slow and tentative after that. She’s right, she doesn’t expect anything of me like the others. She doesn’t demand that I always show up when things get tough. In fact, when I fail to show up, she frequently stops by with a bottle of Romulan ale for me to decide if tonight is a night for that.

But those nights grow less frequent as the rest of the year goes by and instead she offers dinner. We practice on my manners, at being a decent sentient being. Especially now that I’m getting kindly invites from Keiko O’brien for dinner at the Chief’s. I don’t want to frighten their daughter.

I can only put her off for so long, so I practice like a child with Dax. Working on holding my temper if she says something naive and stupid. Practice not barking, snarling or growling like the terrorist I am—was.

I work on greeting her pleasantly in the command station when she’s so chipper every Prophet’s damned morning. When there is nothing chipper about waking up another day on the forsaken station.

Patience with my own people is another area that I work on. The Occupation made us all freedom fighters, but in reality not all of them were. There were Vedeks, teachers, doctors, and every type of soul under the sun. People who were stripped of their dignities, but never blew up, fought, or killed to make it right.

I realize that maybe I’m angry at them too for not fighting harder. For loading people like me with the dirty work, with the burdens of life. 

Springball. Hard fast, and never ending. I want something more—I crave it, but I’m not like Dax. I don’t fight Klingons in the holodeck. I know what taking a life is and what it does to a person and I don’t play at it.

“Tough day?” She asks me at dinner. I shrug and drink the wine she brought from Quark’s. We’ve compromised on dinner and tonight, we’re having something from Trill. It’s nice, springy and fresh. I enjoy the light blends of flavor on such an angry, heavy day.

“Does it matter?” I say.

“Of course it does, Nerys.”

“Just one more day on Terok Nor.”

“Deep Space 9,” she says dangerously. I frown at her.

“You weren’t here…it’s still inside the walls,” I say quietly. “I can still hear the Cardassian boots and feel their…” I shut up and rise to my feet. “I’m not hungry, but you can stay.” I sit on the couch instead with the wine.

“I wish you would try talking when you’re not drunk,” she says wistfully. “Then, we could talk more and it not affect our duty tomorrow.” I snort.

“There’s not enough talking in the world that can help me, Dax,” I say quietly. I shake my head. “You’re you and I’m me and no one will understand, especially not a damned Starfleet officer.” 

She rises to her feet and sits next to me, uncomfortably close. Her knee lightly pressing into my thigh as if to remind me that we’re both here, together in my quarters, on DS9.

“I know,” she says. “But I’d like to try.”

“I don’t want to try,” I admit. “I’m sorry.” I open my eyes. “I don’t want to ever change this. This is nice. This is pleasant. It’s safe.” I reach down to pat her knee. “I don’t want to risk this.”

“Okay, Nerys,” she says gently. All I can hear is the Cardassians harsh words. 

Unnatural freak, looking at a woman like that. Let me take that urge from you.

I rise to my feet suddenly and rush to the bathroom to vomit. I walk back out later after cleaning up.

“Did it not sit well with you?” She asks me.

“Oh…no, the food was fine,” I say confused. “It was a strong memory that’s all. I’m fine now.”

“Does that happen often?” She asks. I shake my head. “Did something happen that reminded you of something?” I nod again. “I’m sorry. Did I push too hard?” I shake my head and feel pricks of tears at the corners of my eyes.

“It’s me. I just…thought something and it happened,” I murmur. She nods, but doesn’t move to touch me when I can tell she wishes to comfort me. I blow out a long breath. “You should finish eating.”

She rises, grabs her plate, and sits across from me. The silence that follows is comfortable and my mind is pleasantly blank as I stare at my hands.

“Are you going to look at me, Nerys?” She asks. I look at her throat, because that seems like a safe place. “Was it me?”

“Y-yes,” I murmur. I let out a breath of air. “You look like someone I was attracted to at a camp. I saw it a few months ago in your face, but it was a fleeting memory. Somehow…I don’t know what happened but the memory was stronger and it wasn’t a pleasant association. The Cardassian guards got really upset with me when they realized my affections were for women. They don’t like that…” I shudder.

“Oh…” she says. “Oh no…” Her face washes over with horror as she realizes the implications of my words.

“Don’t.”

“Right,” she says through gritted teeth. “What do you want me to say, Nerys?”

She sounds aggravated. Upset. I meet her eyes for the first time and I can see the tears streaking down her face.

“Don’t cry for that stupid, little girl,’ I say fiercely. She shakes her head as if denying it. “Don’t you dare. No one ever cried for her.” I rise to my feet and turn away. “I’m not good at this.”

“Neither am I apparently,” Dax says. “Can we still be friends?”

“Don’t take your friendship away from me,” I growl. “I can control it…this isn’t about you…not really. It’s about some girl.”

“Nerys, it’s about you,” she says softly. I grab my glass and throw it across the room. She doesn’t even flinch.

“No, it’s not Jadzia!” I yell. “Don’t you understand? It’s about a stupid little girl who didn’t know how to hide her feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them anymore. You can be attracted to whoever you like and you can act on it or not. Fuck the Cardassians and their bigotry,” she says. I shudder and step back.

“It isn’t about you,” I say again. “You’re my friend. I value our friendship.”

“I do too. I wouldn’t replace you for all the latinum in the world,” she teases with a smirk, lightening the terrible mood. I give her a wry look.

“Thanks, Dax. You never panic with me,” I tell her and go to clean up my mess.

“What’s one glass? Curzon use to throw plates and bottles around,” she says with a wry chuckle. “Whatever he could get his hands on, even people on occasion.”

“Now, that would be sight to see. Jadzia Dax throwing around things and having a tantrum.” She snorts.

“You were not throwing a tantrum. You were expressing emotion, very old and pent up emotions. Sometimes they come out sideways.”

“Oh, don’t you start pulling out the I’ve lived for 6 lifetimes thing,” I say amused. She shrugs and smirks at me again.

“And what do you want from me, Nerys? My friendship comes with six lifetimes. Would you have me close them off from you?” She isn’t serious. She’s teasing, but not. I hear the edge. I stand up straight and take the question seriously.

“No, don’t close off any part of yourself from me. At least, if you don’t want too. I admire all of you, Dax. I admire Jadzia and all the lives she permits me to see,” I admit. “I value their wisdom as I would a Vedek’s.” She pauses. 

“That’s…that’s not what I was expecting,” she says. “You are nothing but contradictions and fiery spirit.” I smile at her.

“Isn’t that why you hang out with me?” I ask her just as teasingly. “To learn about something you never knew?” She pauses and doesn’t take the bait. Instead she thinks too long and hard.

“Maybe at first, but then when the word friend gets thrown around it’s not about that for me. It’s about being there for the person. It’s about finding a way to connect and learn from each other in the purest way possible, not about hanging some new knowledge on my wall. If you want religion, I think that’s my religion. Connection with people. If there is a god, he or she is in everything.”

I smile at Dax, waxing religious when she’s not. Though I have to admit hearing her try is cute. During the Occupation, there was almost that sentimentally. Raw and fleshly religion. Connection in the hope you made an ally for that day. Food, water, a few traded words, and maybe a hump was what was left of our prayers in those days.


	3. A little something more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs directly after the episode "Playing God." S.2 Ep.17

Dax had been hiding out in her quarters for days after the young Trill initiate had left. Sisko had talked to her, but to no avail yet on changing her behavior. The usual social creature has been locked away- far too long in my opinion.

So I return the favor. I bring the Romulan Ale, stroll into her apartment as if I'm more than a guest and place the Romulan Ale on the table in front of her.

Her quarters are softer than mine. It’s lived in. It even dares to try to be a home. I get a few glasses from the replicator and sit next to her.

She is in her silk pj’s and unlike while she is on shift or outside of her quarters that casual arrogance and charisma is gone. Her knees are to her chest and it looks like she's been crying.

“How are those voles?” Jadzia asks, voiced muffled by the silk.

“Some improvement,” I reply. I ease myself next to her and wait. Jadzia grunts. 

I offer her a glass of Romulan Ale and she drinks it all in one go. Then, I give her another and a third while I sip my first.

“Jadzia,” I say. She mumbles something. “Is this about the initiate or a bad tumble in bed?” 

She grabs a pillow and smacks me in the shoulder with it. I give her a smirk and grab the pillow easily.

“Kira,” she groans. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come now, Dax. Who are you fooling?” I reply. “You can fool all these Starfleets, but not me, not after everything we’ve been through.” 

“I’ve been having dreams about Curzon and remembering the woman Jadzia was. I can’t decide if I am who I was or if I let all those lives overwhelm me and I’m not what I’m suppose to be. If I’m really raising the standard of the next life for Dax.”

“He really got to you, didn’t he?” I ask. “You didn’t let anyone know.”

“Of course no, Nerys. I don’t let anything get in the way of the job. I’m a professional,” she chastises. “Arjin was fine. He was right maybe.”

“No, he wasn’t,” I say. “I know Jadzia.”

“But do you know Dax?”

“I’m still getting to know all of Dax. It would take lifetimes to know them all, I suppose, but I know this woman Jadzia Dax and she is a good officer and brilliant woman who challenges each of us on this station. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

She let’s out a sigh.

“This isn’t about me, Nerys. It’s about the symbiont.”

“I know,” I reply. “I can’t...I’m not a Trill. I can’t possibly understand, but if I were symbiont I’d chose you.” Jadzia chokes on her drink and laughs.

“Nerys, give me back that damn pillow so I can smack some sense into you,” she says with a grin. “You’re waxing poetic.”

“And the other night you were waxing religious,” I challenge her and she laughs again.

“Let me pout in solitude if you’re going to make me laugh,” she says and rises shakily to her feet. “I want to be sad.”

“But that isn’t in your nature,” I assure her.

“Of course, it is. I just hide it,” she replies looking haunted. Rising, I take her hand and squeeze it.

“Well, you don’t have to hide it with me,” I promise. “I’ll take you pouting, laughing and all. You’ve taken me at much worse.” She frowns. “I’m your friend, Dax.”

“I know,” she says and looks at her hand. I release it. “Thanks for coming. For the ale.” She smiles peacefully. Her knees suddenly give out and she’s uncomfortably close to me as I scoop her up. She isn’t hot, another Trill thing, but her pj’s are soft. She turns her head to me as if surprised to find herself in my arms, leaning her head against my shoulder as I carry her to the couch. I know the drink just hit her hard. She forgets how much she can handle in her little body sometimes. She lounges on the couch like a feline when I release her.

“Hey,” I say as tears spring up in her eyes again. I stroke a long strand of black hair behind her ear. “Talk to me.” She sniffs and nods as I settle down next to her.

“It was hell, Nerys. Being ripped apart piece by piece by Curzon. Having everything you thought you knew about yourself stripped apart by someone you admire, by your mentor. I was just a kid.”

“Why did he do it?” I ask her. She shrugs.

“He won’t tell me,” she replies with a laugh. “Just that I wasn’t worth it at the time. When I came back through the program, I proved myself, so I guess he was trying to make me stronger?”

“Sounds a little sadistic to me, but what do I know,” I reply with a shrug. She smiles.

“It was hard, nothing like what you went through, but I was soft and I didn’t know any better.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” I say. “When I was a kid and the Occupation happened it wasn’t right either. Just because we’re soft doesn’t mean we deserve to be hurt.” It’s true and I really mean it. 

“But what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger?” She offers, but she’s not so sure.

“You didn’t crush Arjin,” I say. “Maybe there is another way that you Starfleet types preach so much about. I’d like to learn it.”

“I’m not sure I know what it is exactly.”

“That’s because you live and breathe it without even thinking,” I reply. “It’s second nature to you. It’s buried deep in the very marrow of your bones.” She smiles distantly.

“I always enjoy this,” she says and makes a pleasant sound, sinking deeper into the couch. She looks so relaxed now, tears drying on her cheek. I want to stroke them away, but the moment is too intimate. I’m scared with Dax drunk we both might do something silly and ruin this. This thing that I couldn’t stand losing.

She opens her eyes and studies me with half-lidded eyes. 

“Thank you, Nerys,” she says. “You don’t know what this means to me.” 

“I think I do,” I reply, because wasn’t it her that came to my room so many times? She smiles again this time soft and intimate. “Not many people would risk themselves for an angry self-involved terrorist.”

“Ex-terrorist,” she says. “Major.” I shake my head, still marveling at the title. Marvelling that I’m sitting by a Starfleet officer and enjoying it. That I wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I’m starting to see a way,” I tell her and she intertwines her fingers through mine and we sit like that in silence for a very long moment.

I’ve never experienced anything like this before. This sort of intimacy with another person, sitting still this long and enjoying the soft buzz of good alcohol, and knowing the person on the other end is just as content in this moment as I am.

I look over at Dax and she’s fast asleep. So I gently scoop her up again. She wakes up a little, nuzzles into my uniform.

“Neryss,” she breathes softly. “Is this a dream? Are you taking me to bed?” 

“It is. Now, go back to sleep,” I say gently and she does like that. Grinning softly, I tuck her into the soft sheets of her bed. My fingers lingering against the sheets, but I withdraw, because she is my friend and I can’t lose her friendship.

So I walk out of the room, leaving the bottle as reminder of our night. In my own room, I settle down before the shrine and for the first time in a long time I want to talk to the Prophets. 

“I need wisdom. She’s not a Bajoran. She’s my friend. Help me understand these feelings and what to do with them,” I tell them. “Please. You know I’m not very good at this. I hope you understand…” I frown and turn to meditating in hopes for a sort of peace in knowing what I’m supposed to do, but it doesn’t help.

Sighing, I think they’ll keep their silence forever when it comes to me, so I rise to my feet and strip out of my clothes. Changing into a sleeveless top and shorts before crawling in my own spartan bed. The sheets are scratchy, like I’m used too.

Penance I think. I’m still punishing myself for what? All the deaths. They deserved it. I was fighting for my planet, my people, my way of life. 

Who are you trying to convince? The woman back there risked her life for something that didn’t look like any life you knew. She would have found another way. She wouldn’t have become a terrorist, a murderer. She would have cared about innocents and monsters.

I cover my face. I had killed so many. I don’t even have a number. I had killed my own people if they turned against the cause. I had done what was necessary. That’s why I wore the uniform hanging in the closet. I would do anything for Bajor and more.

And I’d do it again and again.


	4. The Accident

I wake up to someone gasping in pain. My head is muddled. I reach up to the side of my face and feel the slick hot blood. 

I try to get my eyes to focus, eventually seeing the dead consoles in front of me. I taste the stale air of a life support long dead, and hear the woman behind me gasping in pain.

I’ve heard that sort of chocked sob before. The one where you don’t want to come to terms with what has happened or the pain that is overwhelming you bit by bit.

Dax.

I shoot up, fall to my knees.

“Kira, be careful,” Dax chokes out despite her own pain. I get a good look at what’s going on. The light that pours in from the view screen shows her leg twisted up in an ungodly angle.

I move again, forcing my swimming head to make my limbs move to get the medkit. I return to her and she stops my shuffling with a steady hand.

“Take care of yourself first. You’re no good to either of us if you can’t think straight.”

I close my eyes, breathing sharply through my nose.

“At least take this,” I tell her. “I’m not thinking straight. I need help.” She takes the pain reliever and shoots herself with the hypospray. I hear her start to relax. It was a very good dose.

She takes my tricorder from my hip and starts scanning me.

“Concussion,” she says as if that’s exactly what she expected. “It’s there something in there for that?”

“I don’t know,” I say and shut my eyes as the world spins.

“Easy, Kira,” she says and takes the medkit. She pulls something out and places it on my forehead. “Relax for a moment. Lean against the bulkhead.”

I obey her words and let the machine do it’s work. In a few minutes, I’m better. I pull off my jacket and look around the ship for something that might make a good splint for her leg.

“We should make a bandage for your head,” she says thoughtfully. The painkillers are doing their job.

I smile at her.

“In a minute. It’s no longer priority,” I say. She nods, accepting that peacefully enough. Eventually I find something that will make due, strips of metal casing. I use my own jacket torn up to tie it into place and the bandages from the medkit until we’re out of material and her leg is at least in a semi-normal position.

“There,” I say. Dax has taken what is left of my jacket and made more strips.

“Come here,” she says. I lean in closer and she wraps the bandage around my head and I grimace as pain shoots through me. “Sorry, it needs to be tight to stop the bleeding.” I nod.

“Don’t worry about it. I need to make sure we have a source of food, water, and this shuttle will work as shelter for now.”

“The beacon. We need to set up the beacon,” she says, looking for it.

“We will, right after I find a source of water at least,” I say. “We’re going to be here for a while. We’re not where we are supposed to be.”

“I know,” she says. “I just want the beacon up sooner rather than later. We should have some water available.”

“Not a lot without the replicator and it’s hot here,” I say. “Let me find water. It won’t take long. It’s humid here. There has to be a source of water nearby.”

She nods.

“Don’t be gone long please,” she asks, her voice trembling. I find her phaser and put it in her hand.

“Of course not,” I say to her a little roughly. “I’d never leave you.” She smiles at me, but her lips are tight and pale. “Dax.”

“Go.” She says. “I need to rest anyway.”

I nod and get up, feeling a residue dizziness and nausea, but I press forward. It takes me a moment to find a way to open the back hatch of the shuttle, but I finally manage to find the manual override. Outside there’s a clearing the shuttle made with it’s crash landing. Around me are tall trees, the sounds of wild life, and I hear it. 

I move toward the sound of water and about 40 meters away I found a tiny spring. I use the metal flask to collect some after scanning it. It’s a little high in phosphorus but nothing that will damage our systems.

I move back to the shuttle and offer Dax a drink of the water. She takes it and drinks greedily. I find our meager supply of rations and keep them locked up for now. We both ate well before we left so no reason to rush eating now. I’ll make sure Dax eats in an hour or so once she’s settle.

“The beacon,” she says after she’s had a drink. “It’s right over there. Bring it here, please.”

I obey her, knowing her skills in this matter will be much faster. I place it before her and she starts to work.

“Not damaged,” she says distractedly. It kicks on. “Take it outside. I’m pretty sure we don’t have to worry about moving to higher ground yet, but if no one responds in a few days then we might have to go for it.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” I assure her. She nods, biting her lip. I grab her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “We’ll get out of this.” She nods and gives me one of those wonderfully assured, but ultimately fake Dax smiles. I allow it and move to take the beacon outside. 

Survival training is something I know and understand. So I collect wood and tinder and work on starting a fire. 

“Kira,” Dax calls once I’ve started it. I move up closer to the shuttle. “Mind helping me move to the entrance? I’m not good just sitting around.”

“Of course, but is it safe to move you?” I ask worried there might be more wrong with her. By now, I imagine she has scanned herself.

“I'm okay and so is the symbiont,” she says as if trying to assure me. “With the pain killers and your splint. I’ll be fine.” I go to scoop her up. “Are you sure? Can you lift me?”

“It’s not like it’s the first time,” I tease as she slips her hands around my neck.. I pick her up and take her to the entrance. Then, I find a blanket and tuck her in.

“It’s not cold,” Dax fusses.

“It will be tonight. I need to keep you warm,” I assure her. “If you get hot, let me know, but I don’t think you will.” She nods accepting that. I return to work, making sure this area is safe.

Dax talks about local wildlife and the potential of running across sentient life being low. I’m glad to hear that. I can’t help but worry about her. That leg is very bad. A compound fracture.

I dig through the medkit and find something to stave off infection and give it to her. She looks at it.

“It’s not that bad, Nerys.”

“It is, Dax,” I tell her. “Don’t try to make this better than it is. I’ll take care of you. I promise.” She frowns and takes it. Then, I get some rations and sit next to her to make sure she eats it. 

“What about you?”

“I ate well this morning,” I told her.

“So did I,” she says.

“I need you strong.”

“So do I.” 

I frown at her and take a bite of ration.

“I’m going hunting before sundown,” I say. “Will you be okay?”

“Did you see anything to hunt?” She asks. I shrug.

“Small things. I won’t go far. I’ll get more water. It’s about 40 meters away.”

I don’t have much luck. The phaser shots are too slow and I’m going to have to rig up some sort of trap to catch the small rodent like creatures. I return to Jadzia a little later as the sun is setting and I can see sweat dappled along her temples.

It’s hot, but not that hot. I reach up to touch her skin and feel how hot she is. 

“What’s the prognosis, doc?” She asks me with an easy smile. “You were gone for a while.”

“Just a little warm,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. I give her another shot of antibiotics, pain reliever, and something to bring down the fever. “I didn’t have much luck hunting. I’m going to have to make traps.”

“That sounds fun,” she says. “If you bring me supplies, I bet I can rig something.”

I look at her and don’t entirely believe her.

“Starfleet training,” she quips, but I smile gently. If she wants to try I’ll let her, but it’s the fever that blurs her eyes that has me concerned.

“Maybe I should take the beacon up to higher ground,” I murmur. She grabs my arm and it’s tight.

“Nerys,” she says. “It’s strong enough. Have faith that it will work. They’ll come for us.”

“Wrong moon, wrong planet,” I reply with a shake of my head.

“They are capable,” she promises. She takes a deep shuddering breath. I pull out my tricorder and I’m displeased to see her Isoboromine levels have started to taper off. It’s slow, but I don’t want to see it speed up or upset her.

“How are you feeling?” I ask. She looks at me, hand protectively over her stomach as if to guard the symbiont inside. 

“I hurt even with the medicine,” she says. Her lips are dry and I offer her more water. She nurses it slowly as if her stomach is unsettled. “Something’s off. Did the tricorder tell you anything?”

“Hmm…” I say and she lifts an eyebrow.

“Hey,” she says and takes my hand, squeezing it. “It’s okay. We’re going to be fine, no matter what it says. I can help.”

“It says that your Isoboromine levels have started to drop. Not significantly, but we will have to watch it.”

Dax pales at my words as she nods.

“And do what?” She asks. “We don’t have the equipment necessary to raise my levels. Dax could reject me if I start to get worse.”

“He won’t,” I say fiercely and place my hand over her stomach. I’d never done something so personal with her before and I feel the creature inside of her shift and look down at her in awe, realizing for the first time in a physical sense that Jadzia is a vessel for something greater than herself.

My heart thumps is in my chest. Isn’t that what a Vedek is? A vehicle to the voice of the Prophets. Her cool clammy hand touches my cheek drawing my attention back to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers. I give a hesitant smile.

“Anything for you Jadzia,” I say and settle down next to her for the long night.

The next morning, Dax rouses slower and seems less coherent even after water and food. I acquire the materials necessary to make traps for the rodents. We both try our hand an making them.

Dax’s fingers are clumsy, but I immediately see that her way is creative and intuitive. So help her shaking, weak fingers to complete the task at hand opposed to mine. 

Worry gnaws on my gut. There cannot be a Jadzia without the Dax that lives within her. She sleeps again as I set up the traps. I find some herbs that I recognize and make a soothing remedy.

She startles awake when I lather the soothing cream over her stomach with gentle touches. Her hands find mine.

“What are you doing?” She croaks. I offer her more water and she drinks less this time, lips still chapped and dry. I feel her flushed face and she is hot to the touch. I give her more medicine and hope it will be enough to keep her well until I can pass her into the more experienced hands of Julian Bashir.

“It’s just a little something I thought might help,” I say softly. “It’s a soothing cream. Does it feel nice?” She nods.

“It feels cool,” she says softly. “Mmm, Nerys.” Her fingers trail down my bare sweaty arm covered in specks of dirt. “You’re too good to me.” I grin ruthlessly, feeling the gentle shift of the precious sentient life within her. Her hands come to rest on either side of it, next to mine. “You like him, don’t you?”

“It didn’t seem real until now,” I say softly. “That you have this creature inside of you that can live beyond our lifetime and it adds to your life.”

“Enriches,” she says softly. “I was different before the Dax symbiont joined with me. I was shy and reticent, nothing like Curzon or the other hosts.” I stroke her cheek softly. “You’re best friends with Dax.” Her eyes drop down sheepishly to the swell of her lower belly.

“I’m best friends with my friend Jadzia Dax,” I say. “The shy science officer and the charming symbiont.” She laughs until she coughs, placing her hand on my shoulder as if she even needs help doing that simple task.

“Shit, Nerys. It hurts,” she whines, face constricting and turning pale.

“Your leg?” I ask sympathetically. She nods and I move to adjust it carefully. She gasps, the sound raking in her throat sending quivers through my heart like daggers. I block her view from it and have a careful look under the dressings. The bone still sticks out through the skin and the flesh is slowly turning necrotic.

Damn it, Commander, where are you. I need you, Starfleet.

“How is it?” She says in a tiny voice. I set the dressings back down and smile at her hiding my emotions.

“Great. It’s healing well. I’m sure it hurts because it’s healing,” I lie. “Let me give you some more pain medicine.”

“You’ve already giving me my dose,” she says with a shake of her head, but her face is so pale. She doesn’t fight me when I give her another dose. This knocks her out.

I go for a walk around the perimeter after that. Out of hearing range, just in case she wakes up, I begin to plea with the Prophets.

“Don’t you dare take her from me. After everything I’ve done for Bajor, our people. Don’t take away my friend.”

The word hangs in the humid air. My heart thumps and I get the sense that I’ve said something not entirely true. Something niggles under my skin and for a moment, there’s just a tiny flash of light a moment of reckoning before the Prophets. I blush.

“Damn you, sons of a bitches,” I whine to the void. “You give me a Starfleet woman and then you will take her away from me?” Tears stream down my face. “I—I love her.”

I collapse to my knees, burying face into them and my hands. The realization rocks me to my core. 

By the Prophets, what horrible emotional roller coaster is this? That they would make me love the enemy and then take her away from me.

She was never the enemy.

“I’m the enemy now,” I whisper into nothing. “I am the godless heathen while she is the vessel of truth. I’ve ruined it. Like I always do. I’ve sullied something…I’m sorry. Don’t take her from me, please.”

Faintly, I hear her calling for me. Soft Neryses begging me to return. I quickly rise and sprint back to her, falling on my knees before her wincing against the bruises.

“Don’t leave me,” she begs. I grip her hands, so clammy and cold compared to the rest of her.

“Okay,” I whisper.

The days and the nights flow seamlessly into one. Each consecutively day we both grow weaker. I give her all the food, telling her I’m eating and give her the lion share of the water. As she weakens, so do I. I hold in the cold nights as she trembles and moans in the throes of fevers.

On the fifth day she doesn’t waken. Her breath coming shallowly and rattles in her best. I try to get her to drink. She doesn’t eat, refusing the soup I’ve made. I put the soothing cream on her stomach and facing, grip her tightly. As night falls, I weep against her.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Jadzia. I’m such a coward,” I tell her. “I couldn’t face the truth. I was and am jealous of all your lovers, of all the men and women you’ve flirted with…I should have told you.” My lips are right next to her ear. “I love you. I love the soft science woman, the passionate Dax. I love both of you.” I hold her head to my chest and stroke her lower stomach until I feel the Dax shift sluggishly under my fingers. “Please Dax don’t give up on us.”

It must be my imagination. I swear, I feel just a tiny hint of electricity in my fingers. Nothing that hurts, but just a gentle weak thrum. I cry harder as Jadzia’s breathing hitches as she trembles harder.

“Nerys…” she moans.

“Shh, shh,” I say and hold her still. “Rest, please. By the Prophets rest.” 

I think, this is it. I’m going to lose her. The one woman I open my heart too. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for her last ragged breath.


	5. The Aftermath

Grey morning dawn wakes me. I fear so much what I will find through crusted eyes and awakening. I shift and reach for Dax, but something shifts and I feel the tale tale signature of the transporter working around me in beams of light.

“Jadzia!” I moan, shifting off the medical bay bed, but Sisko is holding my weakened body down.

“Major, it’s okay. Relax. You’re aboard the Runabout now,” he commands. I don’t care. “Hold still.”

“Jadzia!” I say panicking. “Bashir, help her. Damn it!” I struggle harder as I see Bashir working over the prone form of Jadzia.

“Sir, tranquilize her. I need you over her stat,” Bashir says in a clipped voice I’ve rarely heard from him. Sisko grabs a damn hypospray and presses it against my neck before I can even dazedly react. My mind stretches into darkness.

When I wake up again it’s dark and I’m somewhere else. I shift, sitting up, and start to get off the medical bay bed in Bashir’s office aboard the station.

He sits up from his seat by a dim console.

“Major, I need you to lay back down. You’re still recovering,” he say and takes my arm in a surprisingly strong hold. I look down at the soft hand that grips my bicep. I look up at his frank eyes.

“Jadzia,” I say without thought. His facial expression softens, but still looks resigned to exhaustion and worry.

“She’s improving slowly. You helped keep her calm through an extremely difficult situation. I don’t know how you managed to keep her going so long with her levels so low,” he says. “Now, lay down.”

“I need to see her,” I say. “Please.” He hesitates and nods. His hand shifts around my arm and I think I don’t need his help, but once I get pressure on my feet I realize I do need him. I’m so physically exhausted. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” he says. “You’ll be tired for a few days that’s all. How long did you not eat for her sake?”

“I don’t know…how long were we gone?” I ask. “I stopped eating the second day.”

“Six days total,” he says, sounding in awe. “Quite the survivor, Major.” I snort at his naive words, but then I see Jadzia and melt. He leads me closer and I slide my hand into hers, happy to feel a normal chill without the clamminess.

She doesn’t wake.

“Will she be okay?” I ask.

“Yes, she’ll make a full recovery. I’ve got her tranquilized so she can rest properly. She’ll be able to say hi tomorrow. Now, will you come back to bed. You need to rest too.”

I stare down at her body. She’s softly breathing.

“How’s Dax?”

“The symbiont, you mean?”

My fingers itch to touch her belly and feel the movement of Dax under my fingers to make sure it is well. But on DS9, right now in front of Bashir, it feels too intimate.

“Yes,” I murmur.

“It’s recovering, same as Jadzia. I’m afraid you won’t be able to talk to it tomorrow,” as he smiles at his flippant joke.

“Through Jadzia I will,” I reply and turn away from her. The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner I will see her awake I tell myself. 

He leads me back to the bed and helps me into it. My knees are shaking now. He starts to leave me for his seat by the dim console again.

“Julian,” I say and he pauses. “Can I—?” My words trail off.

“Have a tranquilizer too?” I nod grateful for his intuition. “Just for tonight.” He gives me a shot and I’m out instantly.

***  
The next morning, DS9 is hopping and awake again. Bashir is working chipperly as if he hasn’t been awake all night. Commander Sisko walks in and I sit up. The blanket tucked around me falls down and I see that I’m the medical scrubs a blue tunic and loose pants.

“Commander,” I say a little awkwardly, used to confronting him in my Bajorian security uniform.

“Major,” he says with a broad smile. “I’m happy that you're back.” His dark eyes twinkle with a deep friendship and care I’m not expecting.

“Thank you, sir,” I say feeling awkward. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks for keeping the Old man alive,” he says. Suddenly, his voice is thick with emotion. “He means a lot to me.”

“She?’

“Both of them,” he says. I nod understanding for once.

“It was an honor,” I say honestly. He pats my hand in after thought. Bashir trots over with his Racktajino.

“Well, it’s official you're free to go, Major,” he says. The Commander looks at me directly.

“I’ll see you in a week, Major,” Sisko says.

“What?” I squawk.

“Doctor’s orders,” Sisko replies and my eyes widen dangerously as I stare after a quickly vanishing Bashir as he escapes over to my Jadzia. “Major…” Sisko warns.

“Coward,” I call after Julian. “Of course, sir.” I say more amicably though I’d rather strangle Julian for such a silly mandate.

“Nerys—“ I suddenly hear Jadzia calling out. I don’t know how my feet get to her, but suddenly I’m next to her holding her hand and bending over her.

“Jadzia,” I murmur, stroking her hair from her eyes. She looks up at me slightly confused, but smiles softly.

“Don’t leave me,” she reintegrates again. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that soft insistent phrase. It thrums in my sleep now. She grabs my hand and guides it to her belly. I’m relieved to feel a much more vivacious Dax. “Thank you.”

“Dax,” I whisper, lips trembling. So many words unsaid after the harrowing events between us and too many people to say them in front of us. Her eyes stare up at me confused. Without thinking, I bend down and kiss her forehead. “Get well for me.”

“Please, don’t leave me,” she begs, shifting and something starts to beep.

“Jadzia, I need you to relax or I’ll have to tranquilize you again,” Bashir says, putting a firm hand on her shoulder. She glares weakly at him. Her hand gripping tighter against mine as it presses it firmly to her stomach.

“Don’t leave, Nerys,” she begs. I look to Bashir nervously, begging him to agree to let me stay. He looks to the Commander is looking between us thoughtfully, absorbing the whole situation. 

“Of course, she can stay, Jadzia, but only for a bit. She needs to rest too,” he says. She finally nods. The beeping eases with those words.

“Can I sit up?” She asks. Bashir positions the table so she can sit up and she scoots over and pats the bed with an expectant look to me. I look to Bashir again. His eyes widen and he nods. 

I can see the wheels working in his head, debating on which is more important Jadzia’s rest or comfort and mine versus the whole strange intimate scene of me wrapping my arms around her. The Commander doesn’t say a word as I put my head on her shoulder and she rests her head against mine. My hand is against her lower belly again.

My heart rate slows and another sweep of exhaustion takes me. I feel safe I realize, safer than I’ve ever felt anywhere.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Always.”

Eventually, the Commander leaves and Bashir goes about his daily tasks tending to any number of maladies that enter into station from two Klingons brawl victims in Quark’s, to a Bajorian child’s scraped knee, to Miles O’brien throwing at out his elbow again while on shift.

Miles crosses to us hmmhawwing before he finally manages to invite me over for dinner, because he’s sure Keiko will insist. I should expect to see her tomorrow with something prepared. Her famous strength rejuvenating soup, secret family recipe.

“Thanks, O’Brien,” I say sleepily with a smile. Dax shifts around, stretching like a languid cat which makes O’brien blush before escaping the medical bay.

That evening, Bashir crosses to us and Dax’s arms reflexively tighten around me.

“No, Julian,” she says protectively.

“Visiting hours are over, Jadzia,” he says softly but firmly. “I let her stay all day, but you need to let her rest.” I try to say I’m fine, but a big yawn engulfs me. “As it is, I’ll need to escort her to her quarters.” I shake my head and Dax gives a shaky breath.

“Okay,” she says in a tiny voice. “Come back tomorrow, Nerys?”

“Of course, Jadzia,” I whisper and kiss her temple. Bashir pulls me away and my body nearly collapses against his stiff from sitting next to Dax like that all day. “Sleep well.” I squeeze her hand. She smiles, but I can see the concern in her eyes.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he says to Jadzia and this time her alarm doesn’t go off as we walk out of the medical bay. The promenade is busy and I feel a little ridiculous in scrubs, but no one pays us any mind. It’s too late for that and people have places to be.

The hallway to my quarters is much more quiet.

“It must have been quite a harrowing sojourn for you two to have developed such a tight bond,” he says softly. I stiffen against him.

“It’s none of your business, doctor.”

“Kira,” he sighs. “It’s sweet. I’ve never seen Dax so…vulnerable before or you for that matter.” I snort.

“Vulnerable my ass,” I mutter. He chuckles.

“I’ve never seen Dax look at anyone like she does you,” he says. I blush at his words.

“Doctor,” I say. “You’re not a counselor.”

“I know, I know,” he says with a wry smile. “I am a friend of Jadzia’s though, a man who cares about her. I’m glad she was with you is all.” I sigh as he lapses into silence.

He enters my room and I’m surprised when he helps me all the way into my bedroom and on my bed.

“Can you grab my sleep clothes?” I ask him. He nods and grabs them from the dresser. “Thanks…again.”

“It is always a pleasure, Major. Do sleep in tomorrow. Doctor’s orders. Dax will be there in the morning, I promise.” He slips out of the apartment and the silence shrouds against me. The first time I haven’t fallen asleep next to Dax in days.

I change slowly and slip down into the hard bed. Frankly after days of sleeping on the steel of the roundabout, I’m grateful for the mattress. I sigh, but sleep doesn’t want to come as my thoughts float around one woman insistently.

***  
The next morning I go through my morning routines feeling as if there something missing. I look at my shrine and the image of Dax solidifies in my mind. I walk out of my apartment and straight to the medical bay.

Dax is still in the bed with Bashir beside her, checking her vitals. Her face lights up when she sees me and I find myself grinning like an idiot.

“Jadzia,” I say, slipping into her arms as if we had been parted for way too long.

“I was so worried,” Jadzia admits, blushing. “I kept asking about you, Nerys.” I squeeze her gently, trying to ignore the impulse to check on her trill. “Julian is releasing me today.”

“Would you mind escorting her to her rooms?” Bashir asks, looking at us with a fond smile. “You both have the week off. It might be good to check in on each other now and again.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Jadzia says fiercely and I scoff at her. “I’ll be back in 24 hours, Julian.”

“You better. Doctor’s orders,” he says and gives me a stern look as if I’m going to make the stubborn Dax do anything she doesn’t want to do. I slip my arm around Dax’s waist and help her off the bed. She holds my hand firmly to keep it there.

“Are you still tired?” I ask and she nods as she leans against me. We walk back to her room through the early morning traffic of the promenade. Stores are just starting to open up and Keiko is prepping her class. She peaks out and smiles at us.

“Glad to see you are back Major and Jadzia,” she says. “When should I expect the pair of you by for supper?” We look at each other shocked. The pair of us?

“Tomorrow,” Jadzia says when she finds her voice.

“Good. Rest up,” she commands in a firm voice. I nod, cheeks flushed as I keep walking with Jadzia.

When we reach her living room, I start to release her, but she turns in my arms and holds me there by the hips. She looks down into my eyes with a smoldering…something.

“I don’t want to ever lose you, Nerys. I’m so scared at how close I came to almost losing you,” she says tightly. I look up at her perplexed.

“I never left you,” I say.

“Stay with me,” she says insistently and grabs my hands. 

“Dax, what is this about?” I ask. “Really.” Her cheeks color, but she doesn’t look embarrassed as she takes my cheeks into her hands.

“I should have done this a long time ago, but I was scared I’d lose you. That I’d scare you away or frighten you, but… I love you. I was coward for not telling you before and I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, the irony of situation strikes me and I burst out crying and laughing as I throw my arms around her.

“What is it?” She says sounding both stunned and hurt at the same time.

“I begged and begged the Prophets to spare you. I cried to them, Jadzia every night. One night they sent me a vision that made me realized my feelings for you. I went back to the shuttle, but you were incoherent and I declared my feelings for you. I told you I was such a coward for not telling you earlier that I loved you and I was sorry.”

I look up into her blue eyes that sparkle merrily. She bends down and our lips collide. Closing my eyes, electricity sparkles through me rushing through my nerve endings down to the tips of my fingers and toes as I pull her tighter against me.

She opens her mouth, sucking on my lip and stroking it with her warm tongue. I feel my knees start to give out and she swiftly helps me to the couch. We part panting, before we start kissing again with her sprawled on the couch underneath me.

We tire quickly. Both us panting against each other and nuzzling against the other, wishing we had energy to do more. I stroke her lower belly lovingly and truly feel and see that tiny zap of energy between the symbiont and I.

“Oh!” Jadzia squeals and hums as if I’ve given her delicious orgasm. “What the hell was that?” I look up at her stunned.

“You don’t know?” I ask her. She tilts her head and rubs my hand over her abdomen. “Is it bad?”

“God no, it’s…Nerys, that was amazing. I think…I’ve heard old stories about a bond between so strong between a trill symbiont and her lover that it included both the symbiote and the trill. There’s so much we don’t know about them still.”

I bend down, kiss her lips, lift up her shirt and gently kiss her pooching stomach. She moans again.

“Does it feel good?”

“So good,” she says. “I wish I wasn’t so exhausted. Will you help me to bed?”

I pull her up and lead her to her room, grabbing her sleep things. I help her pull off her shirt, enjoying the sight of her lean body as I drop the silk camisole over her head. Then, I offer her matching blue silk underwear. She needs help with her pants and pulling up the underwear and I pat her thighs, shift her legs under the thin blanket.

“Will you be warm enough?”

“With you in bed, I will. Move in with me, please,” she says. My eyebrows shoot up.

“Dax.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says, scooting up so she is sitting up and takes my hands. “I know we’re both terribly independent women, but I’m so scared every time you’re away. It absolutely terrifies me that something will happen to you and I can’t think. I can’t relax.”

“Hush,” I say as she works herself into the start of a panic. “It’s not like I have much to move. Let me get an overnight bag and we'll discuss this after the week…after things settle properly, okay?” She nods, a tear drips down her cheek. I kiss the top of her head. “Will you be okay?”

“I wish I felt like going with you, but I’m so tired,” she says. 

“It’ll just be ten minutes,” I say. “I’ll be fast.”

“You better,” she warns and I chuckle.

“Try to sleep, you,” I say and walk from the apartment stunned by the rapid turn of events. Everything is moving so fast!

I grab my bag, return to Dax’s luxurious apartment compared to mine and change. I’ll just have to trust the Prophets know what they are doing for I do love Jadzia Dax utterly and completely.

I slide in beside her in bed and she grins at me.

“There’s a blanket on the end of the bed,” she points out and I go to grab it. Her hand trails my back and I shiver at the intimate touch. “It’s so nice to see you out of uniform. I never see you out of uniform.” I grin at her.

“I’m taking you to Bajor one of this days and you’ll see me relax,” I promise. “Really relax.”

“You, never,” she teases me. “I’m going to take you Risa.” I groan. “Hey, it’s my favorite place in the whole galaxy.”

“Fine,” I say. “I’m bringing a book.”

“You’ll play volleyball with me on the beach?” She asks. “Get massages…”

“Massages and beach yes…I have no clue what is volleyball,” I say settling beside her. She rolls over to me throwing a leg over mine. I look up at her as her hand trails my abdomen.

“You’re the strongest, most beautiful woman I know. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you taking care of me so tenderly. Thank you for everything.”

I blush and take her fingers.

“Jadzia, I would do again and again.” I kiss her fingers gently. “You saved my life. I never thought…I’d ever love or feel anything but anger again. You’ve helped me transform from a terrorist to a woman again.” She shakes her head.

“That was all you, Nerys. I just got the privilege to watch you grow.”

She kisses me softly on the cheek sighing, arms tightening around me like I’m a stuffed toy as her head touches the top of mine. I find myself relaxing into the soft pliable arms and losing myself against her.

“I love you, Jadzia.”

“I love you too, Neyris…” she murmurs and I can tell she is falling asleep at last.


End file.
